


When love is a barricade, that's where I'll find you

by GrantaireandHisBottle



Series: Why would you cry on Christmas [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Champagne, Multi, New Year's Party, making wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:52:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrantaireandHisBottle/pseuds/GrantaireandHisBottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then Courfeyrac bursts into the balcony, shouting that at last their New Year wishes came true and he is asking for more champagne and Jehan is jumping happily in the mismatching socks and Cosette is smiling so lovely and, God, Enjolras smells so good. </p><p>A New Year's story about their wishes and hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When love is a barricade, that's where I'll find you

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! Hope you had a good year and this one will be better))
> 
> P.S. Pardon my English

They are all strange, starting with Cossette’s father and ending with Gavroche. Everyone has their own lives, though somehow all of them are connected. They all have wishes and New Year with its silliness and over commercialized policy reviles one common thing. They just want to be happy. That one minute before midnight, one last moment of the previous year shows their desperate need of each other. It reflects in quiet whispers of the wishes and tightly closed eyes before the New Year officially starts. In the clasped fingers of Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet, in the warmth between Jehan’s thin waist and Courfeyrac’s arms, in mocking smiles and winks between Bahorel and Feuilly…In the reflection of a tired, yet genuine smile in chocolate eyes and tenderness of touches between Combeferre and Eponine. They hope and pray for the better future, for their happy future.

And of course there is Enjolras with his lack of understanding the basic importance of love, of hugs and kisses. Sometimes he feels himself perfectly fine. Because it’s hard to judge the definition of “love”, when you have such friends. Enjolras is pretty sure that it is okay to have one girlfriend and two boyfriends. The situation when your boyfriend looks stunningly good both in female and male cloths is absolutely normal. Enjolras is fine, being alone, for him it’s enough to observe love all around him. His friends can give him everything: the daily amount of drama from Courfeyrac and his never ending love to singing and kissing people around him; just the right amount of childish first love, kindly presented by Marius; more than enough paranoiac love and protection from Joly…

Yet, Enjolras is alone in the last minute before the New Year officially starts. And he is afraid to admit that right now he is a bit jealous. Or maybe a lot. He closes his eyes, putting his cold palms in his jeans pockets. His last chance to make a wish. It’s actually funny to observe how people believe in such things. How they are afraid of black cats and broken glass…Enjolras shakes his head, trying to concentrate on his wish. But he has a strange feeling, an odd emptiness inside his skull. Or maybe soul. 

And then, the second before Courfeyrac cheerfully cries “Happy New Year, sweeeities!” and Bahorel hugs and nearly squeezes poor Feuilly to death, before everyone realizes that the brand new year has just come, in Enjolras’s head appears one word, one name…

“Grantaire!” Jehan calls the Artist happily. Enjolras jerkily turns around to see the thin figure of Grantaire. 

“You are late!! How did you even manage that??” Bahorel rolls his eyes, half tickling, half boxing with Feuilly.

“Shit, man, you missed the making-your-New-Year-wish ceremony…” Courfeyrac facepalms with a heavy sigh.

“But you’ve brought more beers and champagne, you lazy ass.” Eponine comes to him, hugs him for a second and then grabs the package from Granatire’s hands. “Happy New Year.” And with a huge smile on her lips she walks away in her leather shirt and creamy jumper, heavy boots and a ponytail. “Who wants some drinks?”

Cheerful “yeeaah!” is the best answer and Grantaire just chuckles, taking off his scarf.

Grantaire always looks tired and sarcastic. His lips must be bitter and his eyes are painful to watch. They are brightly cold and scarily beautiful. Yet, Enjolras always tries to convince himself that those eyes are spoiled, like the soul of their owner. 

Eponine and Musichetta are serving drinks, while Courfeyrac tries and fails miserably to perform a barman show. Marius is searching for some chips and Bossuet is standing with a horrified face. 

Enjolras tilts his head. “You are alright?” he asks as he steps closer to the poor man. “Oh…”

“Yeah, exactly…” the bald man answers in a small voice.

Both Enjolras and Bossuet are watching a brand new jacket of Joly, which is lying on an armchair. A new brown jacket. With a big hole on its left slave, probably made by the cigarette. 

“How did you even, I mean, when did you..” Enjolras quickly glances at the happy figure of Joly, who has been chatting with Combeferre and Marius about something on the other end of the room and then looks at the man near him. 

“Just after Grantaire had arrived I decided to have a cigarette, but Eponine and everyone’s cheers distracted me and I forgot I was holding one in my hand…” Bossuet bites his inner side of the cheek. “It was a Christmas present from Musichetta. He will be mad… Or maybe he won’t notice, what do you think?” he asks with pure hope in his low voice.

Enjolras can’t stop wondering how a single human being can attract so much misfortune for his figure. 

Courfeyrac has dropped a bottle of beer and half of it has poured on Feuilly’s jeans. “Courf, for fuck’s sake, I am going to kill you painfully…” the ginger man slowly approaches Courfeyrac and in that particular moment an innocent tea spoon in his hands looks dangerously powerful. 

And then all of them are holding glasses in their hands, standing in the living-room of Enjolras’s, Combeferre’s and Courfeyrac’s apartment. Courfeyrac climbs on a coffee table with a bottle of champagne in his hand. “I know it’s already a new 2014 year…” an exited cheers. “But we haven’t drink for it yet, because of our dear Grantaire, maybe his reindeer has lost the way in the darkness.” Grantaire apologetically nods, leaning on the door frame. “But right now we are all together at last and as for me it’s a good moment to remember all the good what we had in the previous year.” He jumps down from the table and glances around. “For example, last year, in April to be precise I first kissed Jehan.” Another happy cheers and a playful wink from Jehan, who is sitting on the floor with his crossed legs. “Later that year I found Enjolras, sleeping in my bed. His loss, I was already dating Jehan, because that could go absolutely different…” this time Courfeyrac receives dead looks not only from Enjolras, but surprisingly from Combeferre too. “I am not going to talk about Pontmercy, God knows, it was a hard year for all of us, so let’s just pretend nothing ever happened…” he quickly turns and bows to Cosette. “No offence, sweetheart and God bless your soul. Aaalright..Ferre?”

Combeferre is sitting on a sofa with a glass of champagne in his hands. He is watching his friends thoughtfully. “I think the most important thing for me was a realization that our hearts mustn’t be warm only for us. It’s too much for one person. We need to share it in order to make someone really special.” He suddenly stands up from the old sofa and smiles. Enjolras is watching him with a small smile on his thin lips: a gracious figure of his friend, with a heart of a gentleman and a soul of a knight. Combeferre is standing with a glass in his hand, smiling softly. He is looking just like the Great Gatsby, played by Leo DiCaprio. “Eponine Thenardier.” He doesn’t sounds pompous, he is genuine. “You are the best what could ever happen to me.” And in the silence he raises his glass. 

The silence is only for a second, that second in which Eponine’s heart skips several beats, in which her and Combeferre’s gazes have become locked. And then they all cheer again and there is a kiss, so loving, so caring.

And Enjolras is happy for his best friend and he is clapping together with others, but once again he is so lonely. He hates himself for that self-pity.

He drinks his champagne quickly, puts the glass on the nearest surface and walks to the balcony. His hand freezes on a half way to the door handle as he realizes that it is already opened. Enjolras carefully opens it a bit weirder and makes several steps.

Interestingly, how the cool air can clear heads and minds. Enjolras notices a lonely figure and dim lights of a cigarette between fingers. Wild curls and a green jumper. The leader of the activist group closes his eyes and tries to calm down. Of all people in the room, he meets Grantaire here. From all people it’s always about Grantaire. And he gives up to realize why. 

_“Out, Grantaire. I am not listening to your drank madness!”_

He doesn’t want to remember their fights right now, especially now.

_The painfully blue eyes, which did look absolutely sober, despite the drunken state of Grantaire’s body. His mocking voice and bitter smile, self-destructing attitude and Enjolras’s annoyance. He was shouting at him, he wanted to hate him, his voice was almost a whisper, when he begged Grantaire to go away, to stop poisoning his life and beliefs. And then Grantaire started to sing, his voice so broken, yet Enjolras was so annoyed to believe in that._

_Do you know what's worth fighting for_  
 _When it's not worth dying for_  
 _Does it take your breath away_  
 _And you feel yourself suffocating._

Enjolras blinks several times and slowly approaches Grantaire. The moment later he realizes that Grantaire is standing with his eyes closed, whispering something. 

“It’s a New Year’s wish.” The Artist says, not opening his eyes. “I was late, so I couldn’t do that earlier. Hope it will work.” 

Enjolras can’t understand why this man looks so human, so naturally beautiful right now. And happy. He doesn’t know if Grantaire is aware of his presence or not.

“Dear, I don’t know who…New Year, probably. The spirit of New Year?” Grantaire rubs his forehead thoughtfully, a cigarette between his lips now. “My wish is simple. Just make the fallen God happy. Please. Give him a realization or revelation or simply hit him with something heavy…” he inhales the whole cloud of smoke. His whispers sound desperate and Enjolras doesn’t know what to think or how to react. It’s Grantaire for God’s sake, it’s always something wrong with him. “But eventually, let him be happy. He deserves that. Please.”

And when these pale blue eyes are opened once again, Enjolras notices a hint of sudden confusion, but just for a second. Then he smiles once again, hiding behind that mask, hiding in the darkness of the night. “Apollo, all mighty. I was talking about you, imagine that…”

“I am sorry.”

Grantaire stops talking and stares at the person in front of him. The distant sounds of a party in the room sound surreal, some why right now.

“Don’t smile or say “it’s all fine”, because it’s not.” Enjolras run his hands through his locks. “I don’t know what to feel about you.”

“Does the pain weigh out the pride  
And you look for a place to hide  
Did someone break your heart inside  
You're in ruins.”

Enjolras stares at him. “Why…why are you singing, when I am talking to you?”

Grantaire shrugs and he suddenly feels that it’s so cold out there. The cigarette dies in his left hand and he troughs the remains of it away. “Because I don’t want you to say anything. Shut up for once, Enjolras.” He chuckles as Enjolras closes his mouth without protests probably first time in his life. “It’s really okay for you to despise me. I deserve that and I agree with it. Just don’t try to analyze this. Keep living. And for once, have some fun, it’s New Year, for fuck’s sake.” Grantaire shudders from cold and makes a step to the glass door. His whole figure shows how broken he is and how hard these words are for him. 

“Grantaire. I…need you.” Enjolras’s fingers curl around the Artist’s cold wrist. “Fight with me. Because I need you.”

Grantaire freezes. He enjoys the others fingers on his skin. “Why is it always about fighting, Enjolras?” He slowly turns his head and once again his heart aches. “When love is a barricade, that's where I'll find you...” his thin lips can smile. Truly and happily. 

And they can kiss Enjolras so careful and so gentle. And Enjolras’s hands are freezing cold against Grantaire’s skin. And they laugh as they press their foreheads together. Grantaire thinks about how beautiful and skinny Enjolras is. Enjolras thinks about those blue eyes and how warm they can be. And they are standing at the edge of a New Year. Together. Always fighting. And then kissing, lips soft and hearts, beating madly.

And then Courfeyrac bursts into the balcony, shouting that at last their New Year wishes came true and he is asking for more champagne and Jehan is jumping happily in the mismatching socks and Cosette is smiling so lovely and, God, Enjolras smells so good.


End file.
